The Question of Loyalty
by stringybeans
Summary: Following the end of a long, hard war, King Jake I is assassinated by rebels, leaving his daughter, Clarke Griffin, to take up the throne. With her personal guard, Lexa, to keep herself safe, she attempts to lead the country to peace and stay alive to see it through.
1. Chapter 1

The war against Rybayn was over, and the country was at unrest. Desperate negotiations had led to a build in tension in the north that the south had seen as a mere inconvenience – until it became much more than that. Until it led to the assassination of the king.

Clarke hadn't seen it coming. No one had – she hoped. The north was known for its general grumbling, being the section of Arkadia that was worst hit by the war, but organised (however messily) treason on such a scale had been unheard of.

A day of mourning was traditional for when a monarch had passed. It was a blackout; no candles were to be lit, so as to not mislead the soul from its ascension. Clarke hadn't left her room. She had no intention of being subjected to endless expressions of pity, which had been bad enough when her uncle had passed away. All too many "I'm ever so sorry for your loss, my lady"s from various Lords so they might win themselves a promotion with their grovelling. If they were so sorry for her loss, perhaps they would've tried harder to prevent another.

Her mother hadn't visited, either. Not that she'd expected it. In times of need, it would be her father who would console her, whilst her mother would offer a hug and light words after the worst was over, possibly along the lines of, "You have to be strong and set a good example for your people."

By Clarke's orders, no one else could visit, and she had been surrounded only by darkness as she sobbed for her loss. The little freedom she had left was to be given away at her coronation, which she knew would come about one day without her father's attendance, but not so soon. Not when she was only just turning eighteen.

Clarke lay in bed two days after she watched her father die. Heavy curtains sheltered her from the piercing sun as the painful memory repeated itself in her mind, as though there were no off button. She supposed she would've stayed like that for the rest of the day had it not been for Raven.

The door opened, shut, and suddenly light streamed into the room to invaded Clarke's eyes. She groaned, turning onto her front. "Shut. Them."

"Nope," Raven returned. "Come on, apparently you have stuff to do. A princess can't deny her duties, after all."

"I can do what I want."

"Tell your mother that. She's the one who sent me here."

Clarke turned over and peeled off the duvet from her body. Raven, her personal maid, stood expectantly in front of her, holding a long, black dress. Clarke's stomach pulled at the darkness of it – mourning. Loss. The last time she had to wear a black dress was after her uncle died. And now it was her father.

Raven's eyes softened. She hung the dress up in the wardrobe carefully and sat next to Clarke. "These next few weeks are gonna be tough, you know that. You also know that I'm here for you through every minute, and if you need someone, I'll be there."  
"Thanks, Raven. You could be less of an ass though, in general."

Raven gasped. "This is scandalous! To think the princess would say such unladylike things."

"Just dress me, Reyes."

* * *

Clarke didn't reach the dining room on time, but it was all the same to her mother, who sat with one leg over the other with a glass of wine in her hand. Fruits and breads decorated a platter sat in the middle of the table, but there was no dish in front of her mother. Instead, a piece of parchment had been placed in front of her with an ink pot and quill beside it. Clarke immediately knew what was to come, and couldn't help but feel slightly disappointed.

"Good morning, Clarke. Glad you could join me," Abby greeted with a smile and took a sip of her wine.

Taking the seat opposite her mother, Clarke observed her goblet already having been filled, and began to load her plate with an array of fruits. "If I'd have had a choice in it, I'm sure I would be as well."

"You always have a choice, Clarke, and now you're to be the queen, your choices are the most important of all."

Clarke pursed her lips. "And I assume this is what you called me here for."

"Yes. There are quite a few things I have to discuss with you. Clarke, you're next in line. How this country moves forward is now up to you. I can advise you, but you make the final decision. I will go through the affairs, you can decide on what you'll have done about them, but it will not be official until the first council meeting. This allows time for you to think over your choices to make sure you want to go through with them."

Nodding her head, Clarke takes a sip of her wine and savours it. The weight of the world, it seemed, really did rest on her shoulders, and whilst she had help, she couldn't help but feel as though she was walking into a pitch black cave without a torch. "So these decisions, what are they concerning?"

"Well, the first would be your protection. After the recent events and rise in the rebellion, it is now a must for you to have additional protection than just the royal guards, which is why I have arranged for you to have a personal guard."

"A personal guard." Clarke narrowed her eyes, looking down at the red liquid in her goblet. She would be completely stripped of her privacy, but her more reasonable half argued that it wasn't as bad as being stripped of her life. She looked to her mother once more. "The guard who saved my life from the rebels – I'll only accept her for the position. No one else."

Abby nodded and picked up the quill, dipped it into the ink and noted this down. She then gestured for the servant to come forward.

"Yes, ma'am?"

"Inform Lord Marcus Kane that he will be going over the basics for our most popular guard."  
He nodded his head and left, leaving Clarke and Abby to themselves.

Abby looked back to Clarke. "The next matter is of our location. Eryndale is a fine city, but the rebellion burns only in the north. It might be our best choice to move now back to the capital."

Clarke pondered this. "I would be safer, yes, but I don't want one of my first actions leading up to my coronation to be a retreat. I want to be strong for my people, and if I can't risk my own life, how can I ask for them to risk theirs? We're staying here until I have stopped the rebellion."

For only a moment Abby hesitated, then noted her choice down underneath the other. "So that leads to the next on our list: the coronation. We can't leave the people suspended with no ruler for too long, it will help feed the rebel cause. However, the coronation would have to take place in the capital by tradition. That means you have little time to stop the traitors unless you're willing to leave Eryndale before it's over."

"That will be fine. The rebellion will be over quickly. I'll have all the troops in the north locating and executing rebels from village to village if need be. With the fine skill of the army, we won't have to stay here for much longer until the threat dies out and we can celebrate my coronation and the end of the rebellion together."

Abby noted two lines down with a furrowed brow before the final decision had to be made. "The two traitors have been starved in the dungeon for the past two days, and the public is waiting for justice. What shall be done with them?"

"Hanged. Tomorrow. I want them dead as soon as possible for everyone to see."

"I agree, but that's quite a light execution. A beheading may be favoured, or to burn them at the stake."

"The message will be conveyed if the death is monstrous or not. My father didn't see a need for harsh executions, and nor will I."

"But your father wasn't feared, Clarke. That was why-"

Clarke stood. "I don't want to be feared by my people, and I don't want you to try to advise against my decisions using my father. I don't want you to even mention him in my presence again. Will that be all?" Clarke asked, challenging her through gritted teeth.

Placing the quill down carefully, Abby failed to meet Clarke's piercing stare. "The funeral will be the day after the hanging."

Clarke straightened herself and hastily walked away without another word.

* * *

Tears had long since been washed away by the time there was a knock at the door. After meeting with her mother, Clarke had fled back to her bedroom. It had been a few hours, and despite eventually becoming quite hungry, her stubbornness kept her from leaving her room. She hadn't intended on reverting to her state of the previous day, but she found herself there anyway, and wondered if she even deserved to be the leader of her country if she wasn't strong enough.

She scowled at her reflection. The mirror revealed her slightly unkempt blonde hair, the dress that screamed death she'd been tempted to take off, and ran her fingers quickly through tresses. There was another knock.

Hesitating slightly, Clarke walked to the door and found Lord Marcus Kane, former adviser king and his best friend, on the other side.

"Sorry for disturbing you, your majesty," Marcus began, but was interrupted by Clarke.

"Please don't call me that. Not privately, anyway. Clarke, as usual, is fine."

Marcus nodded. "Of course. I thought you might be interested in meeting your new personal guard."

Clarke's eyebrows raised slightly. "I am," she closed the door behind her, "is she ready?"

"Nearly," Marcus told her as they began to walk. "She'll be starting tomorrow, so you'll find her outside your door in the morning. Now, the council meeting is tomorrow morning. You'll have to choose an advisor, eventually, but you have as much time as you need."

"So this is my mother's way of telling me without having to do it herself?"

"Abby cares about you a lot, you know that, and a strong family bond is needed to get through difficult times – especially now."

"I've got someone who's helped me through 'difficult times' more than my mother ever has. I'm fine, I don't need her."

"I just think it would be beneficial to everyone if you give her some patience. I know she can be…emotionally distant, perhaps, but it's not because she wants to be." Marcus suggested as he came to a stop outside the Royal Office and turned to Clarke. "She's in there, Clarke. Would you like me to come in with you?"

"No, thank you. It should be fine."

Clarke waited and took a deep breath when her heartbeat quickened. This was the woman who had saved her life two days ago – the woman who will be her shadow for however long it takes for the rebellion to cease. She twisted the door handle and pushed the door open, walking through into the room. In the middle, facing Clarke, was her. A brunette with braided hair and soft green eyes - her saviour.

The silence was only noticed by Clarke when the other woman broke it.

"My name is Lexa, your majesty. It is an honour to serve you." She got down onto one knee and bowed her head. Clarke studied the daggers on her belt, the swords resting against her back. How easy it would be for her to kill anyone in a second, but what amazed her the most was how young she looked compared to the other guards she'd seen.

Clarke observed her for a moment before she spoke. "You may rise." She was completely taken by the woman – the woman who'd saved her life. She walked towards her, stopping "Thank you."

Lexa lowered her head slightly. "It's my duty, ma'am. I'm only grateful that I'm able to do it."

Clarke smiled faintly. "Where are you from?"

"I was raised in a village near here, farther north."

"We should sit." Clarke nodded walked over to the side of the room and gestured to the sofas. "Please, join me. We should eliminate formalities as soon as possible, really, if we're to be with each other a lot from now."

Lexa nodded and sat. Her posture, Clarke noted, was quite stiff.

"Would you like something to drink?" She asked.

"No, thank you, ma'am."

Clarke took the jug of wine left on her desk and filled a glass with it. "So, what made you travel south to become a royal guard?" She walked over to Lexa and took a seat opposite her.

"Most of my family were soldiers. I suppose it was expected of me to eventually take an interest in the fight, but they didn't expect to find me trying to lift a great sword when I was four years old. And I was quite persistent, so eventually my sister trained me. By the time I was old enough, I decided not to be a part of the war, so I went to the capital instead to serve my King more directly."

Clarke wondered what it had been like with a family full of soldiers. Her former friend, Finn, had been sent off to the army at sixteen and never came back. She gritted her teeth and wiped the memory from her thoughts as she looked to Lexa. "I'm glad you did. I don't know if anyone else could've done what you did…that day. Without you, I'd be dead."

"Really, ma'am, had I not been able to save you, I wouldn't have been chosen to be a royal guard. I assure you, I'm not special."

"Well, as you saved your future queen, you should expect to hear a lot of gratitude. I'm sure you have already."

"Indeed, ma'am, I have." Clarke noticed an upwards curve on the edge of Lexa's mouth.

"It's okay to feel proud of yourself, Lexa. Even if you think what you did can be done by any other guard, you were the one who did it. And for that, I will always be grateful." Clarke glanced at the clock. "It's twelve thirty. I should probably go now." Clarke rose from her chair with her now half-empty cup of wine and Lexa followed.

"Thank you. It was a great privilege to be able to speak with you like this, ma'am. This country is in good hands."

A smile settled onto Clarke's lips. "And so am I, now I have you by my side."

They walked to the door together, and Clarke turned to Lexa once more. "Goodbye for now, Lexa."

Lexa nodded respectfully with her hands clasped in front of her. "I'll be outside your door in the morning if you need me. Have a good day, your majesty." With that, Lexa opened the door for Clarke, who thanked her and walked out.

Marcus greeted Clarke on the other side with a smile, and the pulled the door to a close. "How was it, Clarke?"

"I like her," Clarke admitted. "I'm sure we'll get along just fine."

"Good. Right, I should get back to her. The council meeting is at nine o'clock tomorrow morning. I'll make sure Lexa knows as well."

"Thank you, Marcus. I'll see you tomorrow."

Clarke then walked away towards the blacksmiths with the next day looming in front of her: the day of the hanging. The beginning of her rule.


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning greeted Clarke with a strange feeling at the pit of her stomach, and a reminder of the execution. As Raven prepared Clarke for the day and presented her with yet another black dress, she took the moment to offer her thoughts on Lexa.

"The guard outside?" Raven started as she tied up the dress.

"Lexa," Clarke answered.

"Isn't she fun? I thought she was gonna kill me! She just about did with her eyes. And I saw her hand ready to grab her sword."

Clarke rolled her eyes. "She's protecting me. If she let everyone in without making sure they're safe, she wouldn't be doing a very good job." She saw Raven smirk in the mirror and questioned her with a look.

"She's not half bad on the eyes, is she?"

"Are you finished? I have to go now." Clarke turned around to face Raven, who saw her unimpressed expression and resigned.

"Fine. Tell her how awesome I am, though, so she doesn't threaten me with that stare of hers again," Raven joked, but Clarke could see some honesty to it and held back a smile. "And Clarke," Raven added, taking Clarke's arm before she walked away. "How are you?"

"I'm fine." Clarke replied bluntly. Anguish began to resurface, bubbling in the pit of her stomach. "I'll feel much better after they're dead."

Raven eyed her uncertainly, then stepped back and lowered her gaze. "Good luck in your first council meeting."

Clarke gave a stiff nod and walked out. Lexa was standing outside, just to the left of the doorway, standing dutifully with her sword at the ready if the need arose. The strange feeling in Clarke's stomach shifted slightly when their eyes met. Clarke had protected her privacy as much as she could until then, and wondered if she would eventually get used to never being alone, having Lexa with her at all times. She wondered if she would even have to – how long would it take for the rebellion to end?

"Good morning, your majesty."

"I wish." Lexa's eyebrows drew together in response, but no question came. "Let's go; the meeting starts soon and I can't be late."

Breakfast was brief before the council meeting. Clarke saw her mother standing outside, awaiting her arrival, as soon as she and Lexa had turned into the corridor. Forcing a smile onto her face, she returned her mother's greeting and entered the room. In the middle stood a long table with five chairs around it, one being at the end where her father used to sit. Three men in the other seats stood upon Clarke's entrance: Lord Marcus Kane, Lord Thelonious Jaha and Lord Cage Wallace, with the latter two expressing their condolences.

Clarke clenched her jaw and walked to her seat. "Let's get this over with as quickly as possible."

They all took their seats, with Lexa standing behind Clarke, who looked between her council. Marcus was the person she trusted the most – of that she was sure. She'd seen the other two men frequently due to their involvement with her father – Thelonious more, being the father of her best friend. They each represented a region of the country: Cage for the south, Thelonious for the north, and Marcus for the west, with the crown acting neutral in order to resolve issues fairly.

Clarke informed them of what she'd decided to do about the subjects her mother confronted her with the day before. She took little of their advice on the matters to heart; hers was already settled on her own resolutions. They discussed further matters that had surfaced, none of which as prominent, and touched upon Clarke's need of an advisor. These seemed tedious to Clarke, whose mind was constantly wandering to the rebellion that Thelonious had failed to speak much upon. It wasn't long, however, until the meeting was over.

As soon as the castle doors opened, shouts and cheers projected from the mass of people behind guards at the castle steps. The throne stood proudly in the centre of the platform with a slightly less grand version next to it intended for Abigail. The crowd grew louder when Clarke walked out in front of the throne. It felt surreal, knowing all the reactions her father received from people would be in response to her, instead.

A dull, bitter wind wrapped itself around her and threw about the ruffles of her dress as she raised her hand. Silence fell upon the people.

"These men are among those who have committed treason against their King and country. Let this be a warning to others: if you don't surrender yourselves now, there is no chance of a peaceful ending. Let us proceed."

Clarke slowly took her seat on the throne, catching a glimpse of Lexa standing behind her. To her left, her mother caught her eyes and smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. She quickly looked away to see guards drag the two traitors onto the gallows. Roars of anguish and contempt were rained upon the traitors from the crowd. It wasn't until her mother quietly reminded her to act neutral that Clarke noticed how tightly she was gripping the arms of the throne, and moved her hands to her lap.

The sight of her father's killers and the familiarity of the scene jerked her back to that day, snapshots of the memory returning to haunt her in a persistent, waking nightmare that seemed like it would never end.

 _Clarke peered over the crowd as she stood on the stage, trying to see all of her people's faces and expressions as they looked up at their King. One little girl was sitting on her father's shoulders, staring straight at Clarke with wide, bright eyes. When Clarke looked at her with a polite smile fixed on her face, the girl's face broke into a grin, which was then mirrored by Clarke. She raised hand and offered a small wave – a gracious one, like she'd been taught in her etiquette classes – then looked to her mother, who was a stoic statue with her eyes fixed on her husband. Just as Clarke was about to ask her what was wrong, her father, who stood only a few metres away, began his speech._

"I would like to thank you all

 _for being here. I am aware that not all of you will have come from somewhere nearby, and I thank you for your commitment. Now, onto the issue at hand. Due to the recent negotiation with Rybayn, we have given them half the land they fought for in return for a truce."_

 _At this point, the murmurings started. He continued through them. "Many brave people have sacrificed their lives for our country, and now no more will be lost."_

As her father began to list the benefits, Clarke watched the impatient crowd as they seemed to split between for and against. She looked to the spot where the little girl had been on her father's shoulders, but she was no longer there. And then, she heard a dull sound of impact followed by a groan and horrified gasps from the people below.

Jake was on the floor by the time Clarke had turned her head. It took her two seconds to process what had just happened. Her heart dropped through to her stomach, her feet were stuck, as if they had weights on them, and time stilled. She wasn't able to process the words coming from others, or their movements – not until Lexa. It was Lexa who pulled Clarke from her numb, timeless state as she pulled her towards herself. A thud of an arrow that hit the wall behind her previous position answered Clarke's unspoken question, and Lexa gave no time for gratitude.

"Are you hurt?"

"No-no, I'm fine," Clarke responded.

"You need to get out of here now, your highness. Those guards will escort you."

Upon this, Clarke turned to see two guards with their swords out, waiting for her with her mother. By the time she had turned back, Lexa was gone, lost in the panicked crowd in search for the traitors, and as Clarke's eyes were drawn back to her father, she forced to delve into the reality that her father, the king, was dead. Then, the guards were dragging her away as she screamed and cried, desperate for even a one-word goodbye from her father, but it was too late. He was already gone.

Clarke felt Lexa move closer towards her, almost touching her shoulders, as if she'd sensed what she was going through and brought her back. She blinked away the tears that pricked her eyes to find the executioner had finished announcing the charges, and the men had been tied at the feet and hands as well as blindfolded, with a noose around their necks.

With her heart pounding almost painfully, everything came through muffled as Clarke nodded her head to signal the executioner, who then abruptly pulled the lever. The trapdoor gave way. Though mixed, the reactions were immediate – and loud. Clarke forced her eyes to stay open, her hands tightening in her lap. She felt something inside her alter.

The men struggled for what seemed like days, but the man with a larger build stopped after a minute. The other, however, kept writhing, and every passing minute gradually extinguished Clarke's resentment.

Clarke glanced to Lexa, whose stern stare was scanning the crowd. In this moment, she understood why her father prevented her from attending any of her uncle's executions, and for that she was thankful. She couldn't imagine witnessing something so gruelling, or putting someone through it, so many times. It was a regular occurrence then, and treated as a celebration. Now, Clarke couldn't imagine such a scene resembling a celebration as dark grey clouds lethargically/sluggishly shifted over the dull murmurs of conversation. Rather, it was her complete opposite, and as she watched the life leave this man she'd never spoken a word to, a sickening guilt set in her stomach, violently twisting around her emotions.

Eventually his body went limp, but there was no feeling of justice or victory. The crowd gave a weak cheer in response, which Clarke might be more because they could finally leave. Once again, she stood in front of who were now her people. Silence came almost instantly, leaving only the shuffling of feet and caws of crows, but the lump in her throat prevented her from breaking it. Furiously fighting herself, Clarke went to speak, but know she would break down if she did. However, from beside her, she saw her mother rise. A small hope grew inside her that her spirits would be lifted, which was shattered when the words came out.

"The funeral of King Jake II will be held tomorrow from ten o'clock in the morning. The public will then be allowed to pay their respects from four to five in the afternoon."

Clarke barely waited before she retreated back into the castle. She found the nearest bathroom and took shelter there, shutting the door behind her. Staring at her reflection in the mirror, she loathed the face she was met with, loathing the black dress that clung to her, holding her down. Clarke found herself suddenly regretting her solitary, and thought of Raven's offer, _"if you need someone, I'll be there."_ She turned and left only to ignore Lexa's presence as she paced towards her bedroom.

"Ma'am?"

"Not now," Clarke snapped.

Thankful that anyone she came across hadn't attempted to start a conversation, Clarke soon reached her bedroom, and found Raven sitting, waiting for her, on her bed.

"Clarke! How was it?" Raven asked, getting up.

"I'd rather talk about anything else right now."

"No problem. I have some stuff I've made that I can show you?"

Clarke sighed in relief and smiled weakly at her friend. "That would be great."

Raven took them to the blacksmiths, who was absent, and in the back was another anvil, a table, shelves and several racks for tools. On the table were two long, steel swords, surrounded by golden jewellery: bracelets with patterns carved into them and various shaped pendants.

"I make intricate items more now, especially since there isn't a high demand for weaponry anymore." Raven told Lexa, who was admiring the table of silverwork.

"How long have you been doing this for?"

"Well, I was first inspired when someone made me this," Raven said, gesturing to the iron brace on her leg, lined on the inside with wool. "It's kind of heavy, but does the job – I can still walk. My leg was wounded when fighting four years ago, and I was lucky to come out of it alive. When I got back to Polis a blacksmith in town made it for me for free. I always wanted to try it since then, so Clarke got me a position as the blacksmiths' apprentice, but I don't only use iron. I'm a multi-smith, you could say."

Clarke examined the jewellery as they talked, particularly a round gold brooch adorned with a pearl. "This is beautiful."

Raven turned to look, and smiled. "That's one of my favourites. Do you want it?"

"Did you not make it for someone?"

"No, I just made that one because I wanted to. I'm sure the boss would find someone who'll want it."

Clarke put it back down again. "Thank you, but I shouldn't. You should make something for me sometime. So, would you two like lunch? I'm starving." She noticed Lexa's surprised expression at that.

"Yeah, me too," Raven replied.

Lexa bowed her head slightly. "Thank you, ma'am, but I'm fine."

Clarke smiled. "You shouldn't lie to your queen. Now, let's eat."

The dining room was once again empty as they arrived, but soon filled with servants serving food and drink. Lexa had been reluctant to sit and eat with them at first, but Clarke saw that she'd relaxed after a while – especially when Raven started to tell stories once they were finished eating.

"Keeping in mind I didn't know Clarke very well at the time, but Finn and Wells did, so I thought, what's the harm in it right? So they got the leaves and gave them to me wrapped in a cloth, and I discreetly dropped them into Clarke's dress that morning. Luckily the walk to the Great Hall isn't that far, so she didn't sense what was going on too badly, just complained a bit. Then, I stand behind Clarke, who's sitting at this front table with her parents and uncle and aunt, and watch as she starts to itch. Soon, her mother's telling her off – etiquette and all. She can't make a scene in front of a hall full of high nobility, but she can't help it 'cause of these leaves. Eventually she was being so distracting that she had to leave, and after that, she had a rash for two weeks after that! Course, she didn't say it was us, otherwise I wouldn't be here right now, so she was banned from attending public appearances for a month. And Clarke certainly didn't see the humour in it at the time," Raven said, once again grinning at her best friend.

Clarke rolled her eyes with a hint of a smile. "I didn't care for the public appearances anyway. It was the rash I was more focused on. So, Raven, have you got any other _riveting_ tales to tell?"

"Hey, I could always tell Lexa about the time last year at the lake where-"

"Okay, okay, that's enough of Raven talking about me for the day." She looked to Lexa, who had an amused twinkle in her eye. "Why don't you tell us about your past, Lexa?"

"What would you like to know, ma'am?"

"Ooh, have you had any boyfriends? Clarke hasn't been allowed any yet. There's time for that, though," Raven said. Clarke almost kicked her under the table.

"You're not nineteen, you're actually sixteen, aren't you?" Clarke said, shaking her head.

Lexa's eyes turned vacant, her delicate smile dropping slightly. "I haven't had a _boyfriend_ ," she answered quietly.

Raven raised an eyebrow with a smirk. "Oh? Well what about-"

Raven was interrupted as Lord Cage strode into the dining room and immediately set his eyes on Clarke. Lexa rose from her seat.

"Ah, I'm sorry to intrude, your majesty. May I take you for a walk? There's something I'd like to discuss with you."

Clarke glanced between Lexa and Raven before returning to Cage. "Of course. I'll be with you in a minute, My Lord."

"Thank you, ma'am." At that, he gave a short bow with a wide, thin-lipped smile plastered on his face, and exited the room.

Turning back to her friend, Clarke managed to hold back a sigh and said, "Duty calls. I'll see you when I can, Raven."

"Goodbye, my ladies," Raven replied with a grin.

Clarke left the room with Lexa and found Cage with his back facing them. He only turned around when Lexa shut the door behind them.

"Ma'am," he said, nodding to Clarke. "I was just admiring the portraits; such ability to capture a person fascinates me. Are you still painting?"

They began walking alongside each other, Cage leading them towards the garden.

"When I can, I do. I've always loved it," Clarke replied.

"Your father showed me some of your paintings, actually. You should have them framed and displayed in the castle. Have you ever thought of painting portraits yourself?"

Clarke offered a polite smile and shook her head. "I have no business wasting my days painting when I have people to look after."

"They certainly are lucky to have you. I must say," they walked through the doors to the castle grounds, held by guards, who were silently thanked with nods by Clarke and Lexa, "I never saw the same dedication in your uncle, King Henry, than I have in you and your father. It is highly admirable."

"Thank you, My Lord, but what exactly is the reason behind this conversation? Assuming you're not here just to talk of painting."

A hint of a smile curved the end of Cage's lips upward. "Your assumption is correct, ma'am. I thought the sooner the better concerning this request. The north has become uncontrollable, as you know, and I feel as though Lord Thelonious isn't quite the man for the position."

"He was elected by the people only three months ago," Clarke replied, furrowing her brow.

"Exactly. He's new, inexperienced. I'm sure he could be bribed to turn a blind eye to misfortunate events or forgive such atrocities if it means longevity in a position of real power."

Clarke stopped walking and faced him. "Are you insinuating that Lord Thelonious may have known about what happened to my father? You realise how serious this accusation is, correct?"

"You may think you know him and what he's like because you know his son, but he puts on a front. As your councilmember and as your lord, I must be honest with you." He turned his back from Lexa and lowered his voice. "All he cares about is money and power, and then passing that onto his son. He found out that I'd discovered his true motives, and threatened to ruin my reputation, but I had to get this information to you. Especially in a time of rebellion, a queen needs someone upon whom she can rely on to inform her of everything."

Clarke narrowed her eyes slightly. "I will need proof of this. If you fail to find proof, I will have to remove you from the council. In order to function properly, all councilmembers have to trust each other completely, and if this accusation is false, you cannot be trusted and will face a court trial as punishment. Is that understood?"

"I understand completely, ma'am."

"Very well. Have a good day, My Lord."

"And you as well, my lady," he said, bowing once again before leaving.

Clarke turned and looked over the grounds. The grass was still damp from the morning's frost, and all but the pine trees and hedges were barren. The view eased her nerves as she thought about holding a trial for one of her council members, and secretly hoped it wouldn't be Thelonious. She thought of Wells, far out to the west, and how he'd eventually get the news of his father's imprisonment. Much sooner, even, if he came to visit Clarke. Though, that seemed to be unlikely, since she'd received no letters from him since her father's passing. She sighed, and focused on the grounds instead.

"You should see it when there's a fresh sheet of snow," Clarke eventually commented.

From behind her, Lexa replied after a moment. "I can imagine how beautiful it must be, ma'am."

Clarke looked back to her, silently inviting the guard to stand next to her, which Lexa then did.

"When I was younger would sometimes run into the forest when it was snowing, find a clearing and watch as the snow covered the grass, like nature's blanket."

Clarke examined Lexa, then finally replied. "Alone? And didn't you get cold?"

"I did, but I wore many layers so I could stay for longer. I enjoyed the peace of it, and my sister thought it was a bad idea anyway since she could watch from the house, so I would go alone."

"You have a sister?"

"Her name is Anya. She's not related to me by blood, but my aunt and uncle took her in not long before me. I grew up with her."

"Do you miss your home?"

"I think of my family often, but I don't regret leaving. This is what I am meant to do, and they're proud of me for it, I'm sure. Do you miss Polis, ma'am?"

Clarke looked forward again. "I don't know. Returning without my father for the first time is going to be…well, different."

"Maybe you should talk to your mother. I've found that family helps most-"

"Careful not to overstep, Lexa," she warned, then walked down the steps onto a path that trailed around the grounds.

Lexa matched her pace, walking beside her. "Sorry, ma'am." She paused, then hesitantly suggested, "maybe you could try painting?"

Clarke pondered the idea. "My father always said I had a talent for it, and whenever I was upset or angry, he would suggest I 'paint my feelings and leave them behind on the canvas.' He was the type of person who felt there was something to be learned from everything, and everyone. That everything happens for a reason."

"I remember when I was first recruited at Polis, he gave an inspiring welcome speech. Before I'd left I thought I was making the right decision to become a guard, but from that moment I knew, and every moment since has proven that."

Clarke looked at Lexa, and sincere green eyes met her own. "What do you think I should do about Thelonious and Cage?"

"May I ask why you're asking me, ma'am?"

"I trust you have good judgement, to have made it this far at such a young age."

A beat went between them as Lexa thought. "Trust your instincts. The crown must be neutral, but being a queen doesn't require you only rely on what's in front of you, but think of what might be behind."

"Thank you for your judgement, Lexa. It will be hard for me, trialling a councilman I've known for many years, but I'm sure there will be many more instances where I will have to be neutral despite my undeniable bias."

They both stopped when they heard faint footsteps that were rapidly approaching from behind. Lexa instinctively put a hand on the hilt of her sword, but when they turned around, they saw a small teenage boy in plain clothing running toward them, and exchanged a look.

"They're here," the boy said, then stopped in front of them with his hands on his knees before straightening up. "Bellamy and Octavia Blake are here, the son and daughter of Queen Aurora. They send their condolences from Rybayn."


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey! Sorry for yet another long wait. The next chapter should be out a lot quicker, and it's a little more Clarke and Lexa based. I love reading the reviews, so thanks for those and thanks for reading! Hope you enjoy.  
**

* * *

The Blakes had arrived shortly before many others from all over Arkadia. The castle was bustling with servants and guests, as a feast had been ordered for over the expected number of guests to last for two nights.

Clarke had already familiarised herself with the dynamic between the siblings. She'd always thought that, even though they weren't related by blood, she and Wells shared a bond similar to that of siblinghood, so she never found herself longing for a younger sibling she would never have. Her mother had almost died during labour, which had frightened Jake into agreeing they wouldn't risk her life like that again. Nonetheless, it was interesting to see how different Bellamy and Octavia were.

They met in the throne room. Clarke watched from her throne with Abby and Lexa at her side as Bellamy and Octavia, escorted by guards, entered and bowed before her.

"Your Majesty, it is an honour to make your acquaintance. My name is Bellamy Blake, Prince and heir of Rybayn, and this is my sister, Octavia. We express our deepest condolences for your loss."

Clarke descended the small steps leading down from the throne. She bowed her head, then shook their hands. "Thank you. Arkadia welcomes you both for as long as you wish to stay." Clarke imagined her father would say something similar, had he been in her place.

"Our mother apologises for her absence; she's been very busy recently, and couldn't make it in time," Octavia said.

Bellamy nodded. "We are here on her behalf, as well, to solidify the treaty between Arkadia and Rybayn. Being the daughter of such a wise and fair man, I'm confident we won't have any problems."

Clarke raised an eyebrow and glanced to Lexa, whose expression was unreadable. "Hopefully, we won't."

Lexa noted that Bellamy seemed to be eased by this, and noticed a slight relax in herself as well, until Abby started speaking to her in a hushed voice.

"Lexa, I'm sure you will anyway, but I want to be assured that you'll be wary of our two guests. The last thing this country needs is another tragedy. The last two years have been difficult, but I truly believe Clarke can bring a new air to this country."

Lexa nodded dutifully, watching Clarke talk to the Blakes. "Of course, ma'am. Clarke is safe from any threat under my watch."

"Good. I thought Clarke would be safer with some extra protection at night as well, so I've had a cot put into her room for you to sleep in. I will tell her that we rearranged the rooms to help make room for all of our guests feel comfortable, which results in you sleeping in her room. Marcus will be in your room for the night. Now, I have duties to attend to." Abby walked to Clarke, Bellamy and Octavia, who stopped their conversation. "I'm sorry to be leaving so soon but I have important business to attend to. It's been a pleasure meeting you both; I look forward to seeing you again at dinner."

"You too, ma'am," Bellamy replied, his sister agreeing with a nod beside him, and Abby left the room.

When Octavia turned back to Clarke, suddenly her eyes lit up. "We've brought you a gift!"

Clarke, despite expecting to receive one, had to play down her intrigue (and surprise that she hadn't yet noticed it) as Octavia took a woven basket covered by a light cloth from the guard behind her, and offered it to Clarke, who accepted it with a smile.

"Are these…?" Clarke saw the vibrant orange and yellow colours from underneath the cloth, that she'd only seen in old paintings.

"Oranges and lemons," Octavia confirmed with a smile.

"They haven't been in this country for…forty years?" Clarke "We should move to the drawing room to properly try these."

They'd settled comfortably on the sofas, with a few plates and cutlery on the table, along with the basket of fruit. Raven had also joined them.

"May I begin, your majesty?" Lexa asked Clarke, who nodded in confirmation. She picked an orange first and looked to the Blakes.

"You have to peel it to eat it," Bellamy explained, picking one up himself to demonstrate, which Lexa then followed and took out a piece. Upon inspecting it, she placed it into her mouth, and her eyebrows shot up immediately, even if just for a second. Raven laughed.

"Well?" Octavia asked, impatient but enthusiastic.

"It's…nothing like I've ever tasted before. I think I like it," she answered, contemplating the taste as Clarke and Raven then took one.

As Bellamy sliced a lemon with a knife, Clarke says, "It seems to be sweet and sour at the same time. Is that right?"

Octavia nodded. "Yeah, I'm sure it's strange for you two, but lemons are…more interesting. So, Lexa, if you'd like to take a slice and bite into the middle."

"Lexa, you should prob-"

"Never mind him," Octavia interrupted her brother.

Clarke grew wary of Bellamy's hesitant expression paired with Octavia's smile, which reminded her of someone. She watched Lexa take a bite, and immediately her face shrivelled up. For a beat, Clarke's heart clenched, wondering what was wrong, until she heard Octavia's laugh, free of malice, and how Bellamy tried to hold in his own out of courtesy. Then she realised: Octavia had reminded her of Raven, just before she pulled something.

"Sour?" Octavia asked through laughter.

"Is that the term?" Lexa gasped, prompting Raven to join in the laughter and went to high-five Octavia, who earned a disapproving look from Bellamy when she returned it. Lexa quickly grasping a glass of water to try to wash down the taste. "Your majesty, if I may," she said to Clarke, "please be cautious. They are not as forgiving as oranges."

Clarke smiled and followed her guard's advice, scooping a small portion from a slice with a spoon. She didn't react quite so much, having expected it. "I imagine it does well as a flavouring?"

Octavia nodded. "We use both for desserts, but lemons also with other foods. There are many ways you can use them. Orange juice is a popular drink in Rybayn. We have other foods that you may not be able to grow in Arkadia that we'd love to use to trade, as well."

"I think the people of Arkadia will be delighted to have them in our country once again. I shall organise a meeting with my councilmembers where we will discuss trade. I'm certain a strong relationship between our great countries will be the way forward for us both."

When more people arrived, the drawing room was set with servants carrying goblets of wine as the Great Hall was being prepared for the feast. Though it was tiring, Clarke found it interesting to see who had started to treat her differently since she'd become queen. Her aunt and her cousin, who was two years old, arrived almost late. Clarke hadn't met her aunt too many times, but from the few times she had, she'd decided the infrequent visits weren't so unfortunate – especially after her uncle passed and Jake set on ending the war. Clarke had no doubt her cousin would grow up to resent her as well, but with Clarke on the throne, he was next in line, so she would have to try to prevent that.

After a while of socialising, the Great Hall was opened and everyone filed in. The food, still piping hot, decorated the table and made an impressive display. Clarke noticed the amazement on Lexa's face and smiled. Most guards wouldn't get the opportunity to witness such a grand feast, so Clarke knew how it must have felt for her. She stood once everyone had taken their seats, with her at the head of the table, to make a short speech.

"Ladies and gentlemen, my lords and ladies, I'm sure you know that the last few days haven't been the easiest, even for the best of us, but that doesn't mean I do not continued to be humbled by all of your kind words, which show me how proud I am to rule a country with such great people in it. I'd also like to take this time to welcome our special guests, Prince Bellamy and Princess Octavia of Rybayn." She picked up her glass, "So, with that, let's make a toast to a new Arkadia: one of peace, strength and growth."

The rest of the table raised their glasses to chorus, "a new Arkadia!" and with that, the dinner began, servants springing to life as they served out food and refilled cups that had already been bled dry. Clarke made polite conversation with the Blakes and her councilmen but only wanted for it to be over so she could finally by herself. She felt out of place at the head of the table and couldn't help but look for any opportunity to excuse herself for the evening.

It wasn't until three hours later, however, with the table full of nearly-empty platters, that she finally got that opportunity, as everyone left for their rooms. Once she'd gotten up from her seat, she saw from the corner of her eye Abby making her way towards her, and quickly told Lexa to get her out as quickly as possible. The last thing she needed was for her mother to give her a stony speech about how she thought Clarke did that day, and how she needed to do the next. It reminded Clarke of how Abby was when she was teaching her how "act like a princess." Except this time, she didn't have her father to lighten up the mood.

Lexa didn't seem surprised by Clarke's request, and guided her through the people and to her bedroom by the shortest route. The abrupt exit stopped Abby in her tracks as she then watched and let them leave, opting to talk to guests instead.

That night, her mind refused to shut off, and all she could do was hope her sobs were quiet enough to not wake Lexa, who'd switched rooms with Marcus so their guests could fit in comfortably, and lay in a cot to the far side of the room. The hours went by like years, with her tossing and turning, until finally she heard a soft voice to her left.

"Would you like me to get you something, ma'am?"

"Sorry, did I wake you?"

"No, ma'am. I'm sorry I haven't asked sooner, but I thought you might like your privacy."

Clarke squinted through the blackness and barely made out Lexa's soft features. She sighed. "So you heard it all. No, it's fine, thank you. I don't need anything."

"If you do, know that I'll be awake."

Clarke heard Lexa rise to her feet then, and held her arm to stop her, and could just make out her green eyes. "Thank you, but you should try to sleep."

"I could say the same to you, ma'am." Clarke could hear the hint of a smile in Lexa's voice, which prompted her own, despite the dried tears which marked her cheeks.

Clarke sat up and could just make out Lexa's soft features in the darkness. Somehow, they quietened the storm in her brain. "You're right," she replied. She wanted to keep talking to Lexa. Being awake together on such a still night made her feel like this was more intimate than any other conversation she'd had, despite its subject – but it seemed to be over, until Lexa stepped forward, perhaps sensing Clarke's hesitation to end it.

"It will be over with tomorrow. He will finally be at peace in a better world than this."

"But it won't be over for me. I don't think it ever will be."

"It might, in time."

"What would you know?" Clarke snapped. When Lexa went quiet she reconsidered; she knew nearly nothing about Lexa's past – or, in fact, about Lexa at all. Suddenly she recalled how Lexa had briefly mentioned living with her aunt and uncle.

"My parents were killed in a raid by Rybayn warriors," Lexa replied. Her voice wasn't as soft as it just had been.

"Lexa-"

"Some kind people took me in after that, but when Anya joined the war as a soldier, I always feared that one day she'd leave with her patrol and never come back." Lexa looked up, "I am sorry your father passed away, ma'am, and your experience of grief will not be the same as my own, so that leaves me unable to help. But I do know how it feels to lose someone."

"I apologise. I shouldn't have assumed anything. How are you...how do you feel about being around Prince Bellamy and Princess Octavia?"

"The war is over; they are our allies now. That was a decision made by my King, and I will stand by it."

Clarke considered her words. "I see. I'm sorry about what happened to your mother and father, Lexa."

"Thank you, but it was a long time ago, before I could keep many memories. I am just reassured in that my aunt and uncle told me they were good people."

"I'm sure they were, too, and if so then they would be incredibly proud of who you've become."

Lexa's reply was delayed. "Thank you."

She let her hand fall back onto her bed and waited a beat before she finally replied. "Goodnight Lexa."

"Goodnight, Your Majesty."

* * *

Despite the best efforts of Raven and other maids, a bath failed to relax Clarke that morning – everything did. She was on edge the whole morning, impatient for it to start. What annoyed her the most was she could see that anyone who spoke to her, aside from Raven, would be stepping on eggshells, and only made her feel worse.

Lexa had been quiet, but Clarke couldn't pin it as 'unusual' behaviour for the guard since she had yet to find out what was normal. Whilst she was grateful for a break from constant conversation, Clarke couldn't help but feel a bit bothered about it.

The funeral started later on in the morning. The walk, that took them to Highridge Hall, in the centre of the city, was nearly an hour of a painfully slow march, with the soldiers carrying the coffin, and Clarke walking behind with Lexa, Abby and Raven, as well as her aunt and cousin. The royal band drew out long, depressing melodies against a drum beat that was ongoing as the royals, the guards, servants, soldiers, the constable and marshal, men of the church and other members of nobility walked in a parade through the streets with gatherings of people alongside them. Clarke knew her father would have wanted to be amongst his people, so she couldn't have any real objections to the gruelling walk amongst, but there was nothing she could do but wish he'd come back and keep her tears from falling – at least until she was out of the public eye.

The service didn't last as long as the walk, but long enough for the solemn tone of the priest's voice to further erode Clarke's already depleted spirits. With the public outside, the attendees sat in the pews, as the priest recited passages from the holy book. Speeches were made by Abby, Marcus, Cage and Thelonious, recalling their finest and most loved memories of Jake. Clarke didn't want to make a speech. Raven had suggested it again that morning, to see if she'd changed her mind, but she didn't want to make a fool of herself – especially not in front of people who, less than a year ago, she'd been at war with.

"In peace may you leave the shore. In love may you find the next. Safe passage on your travels until our final journey on the ground…May we meet again," the priest concluded, and the congregation echoed, marking the end of the service. The priest then invited people to file past the coffin. Abby was first, in front of Clarke, who had become accustomed in the last two hours to concealing any emotion that dared to show itself – but that was threatened to be crushed by the sight of her father lying there, still and cold. When her mother left, Clarke glanced back at everyone else in the room and bit her lip forcefully, then laid her eyes on her father's corpse.

"Goodbye, Father," she whispered, her voice trembling. "May we meet again."

Not being able to stay there any longer, Clarke quickly turned away and was ushered into a small room to the side of the main hall, where Abby was sitting at a table.

Clarke and Abby held eyes for a moment until Abby stood up and Clarke rushed into her arms. When she let her go, Abby spoke.

"The burial won't happen for a few more hours. You can wait here with me if you'd like, or you can go back to the castle to wait. The councilmen will join us here soon."

Clarke shook her head. "I should be with our guests. I can show them around the city. It'll help me take my mind off things, I think."

"Clarke, I don't think that would be very safe."

"We'll be in a carriage, and anyway, I have Lexa to protect me."

Abby nodded. "Very well. Be back in an hour or so; that's when we'll be going to the castle together."

Marcus walked in as Clarke, Lexa and Raven made their way out, exchanging nods with him. As they waited for the Blakes at the entrance to the hall, the never-ending line of people going in and out kept Clarke busy with greetings. Some even had small gifts of consolation in the hope that they might get to meet their new queen and were delighted when they did. By the time Bellamy and Octavia and joined them, Clarke had two basketfuls of soaps, candles, breads, cakes, berries and flowers, and a small smile that was fixed, but not forced, on her face as she crouched down to talk to two children who were with their mother.

"We're sorry about your father. But you'll be a great queen! You already are I think!" one boy, Jacob, said and his younger brother, Thomas, quickly agreed. "We don't have gifts like those other people…but we do have our apples! Want those Your Majesty?" The two of them rushed to reach their queen first, looking at her with awe shining in their eyes.

"Now, boys," Clarke started with a laugh, "you need to eat your food so you can grow to be strong and healthy. Your being here is a gift enough already. What do you want to be when you grow up?"

"I wanna be a baker!" Jacob grinned.

"Well, Jacob, I'll be sure to visit your bakery when you've opened it. What about you, Thomas?"

"I…don't know, but I like horses!"

"Perhaps, then, you could make a living looking after horses. Or, you could become a champion jockey – someone who rides horses in races."

"Can I do that?" he asked, looking up to his mother, who laughed.

"If you want to, go ahead."

"Remember, boys, you can do whatever you set your mind to as long as you work hard - and don't forget to eat what your mother gives you!" Clarke said.

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"Alright then." She got up and smiled at the mother. "Thank you for coming. I hope I see you again one day."

"Thank you, Your Majesty. You too."

Clarke then turned to Bellamy and Octavia. "I thought we should tour the city together? I don't suppose you've seen all of it already."

"Good idea. From what I've seen of it so far, it's beautiful," Bellamy replied.

"But it's so cold," Octavia commented.

Clarke laughed. "Well, that's winter in Arkadia."

They got into the carriage Clarke had come in and instructed him where to go. The slow, steady pace along the cobblestones managed to ease Clarke a little bit as she opened the curtains to let the daylight in and pointed out different places she'd remembered her father showing her. Eventually, it was just Octavia asking Lexa about her duty as a guard, Raven answering before Lexa got a chance, and Bellamy occasionally interjecting with his own comments. Octavia and Raven got along instantly, as if they'd already been friends for years, and Clarke remembers feeling the same way when they first met. All in all, it was as if old friends were travelling about the city together.

The driver took them back to Highridge Hall just over an hour after they'd left, and the line of people outside hadn't died down at all, but upon seeing the royal carriage return, the guards at the door started to block off the people outside to tell them the seeing had finished. Clarke entered as Lexa and other guards separated her from the crowd and joined her mother and councilmen back in the smaller room.

"Clarke, you're just in time," Abby then turned to Bellamy and Octavia. "Your Highnesses. Are you both enjoying your stay?"

Clarke turned away to roll her eyes, and Raven patted her shoulder to try to calm her.

"I can't say I'm enjoying myself for the reason we're here," Bellamy began, and Abby's expression dulled a little, "but the feast was remarkable, as is Eryndale, thank you."

"Of course. Well, you have another feast to look forward to after we finish the procession, which we are to restart now," Abby finished, and led the way out of the room into the main hall, where everyone had finished paying their respects.

Clarke could barely hold her nerve with the small talk that treated her father's death so lightly, as if her mother hadn't lost her husband – or didn't care, anyway. Maybe she wanted to humour their guests despite the depressing tones of their visit, but Clarke had been doing that herself without disrespecting her father.

Raven could sense the anger boiling within Clarke and tried to quietly cool her down. "Hang in there. We've got the burial and some eating to do. Then you can let yourself off on the drink like never before."

"Thanks for the consolation. I feel much better already," Clarke replied dryly.

The crypt was chilling. Clarke would avoid the crypts whenever she could in every castle due to the unsettling feeling they gave her, but it didn't take long for the priest to read aloud several more passages from the Holy Book as the coffin was placed and fixed on its stone pedestal: the late King's final resting place. The end was announced once the royal funeral formalities had been recited, and soon after people began to leave the room to then prepare themselves for the second banquet. Eventually, the only people left were Clarke, Abby and Lexa (who decided to excuse herself to stand outside with Raven instead).

The room, made from stone itself, had another stone pedestal next to where her father's coffin lay, intended for Abby. Its emptiness both reassured Clarke and gave her the awful reminder that there will come a time when she'd walk back into the crypt to see two coffins, not just one. She found herself quickly feeling almost resentment for the room. Her father deserved to be in a place he'd loved.

"It's horrible, isn't it?" Abby finally commented, to Clarke's surprise.

"It is."

Abby continued, "I remember your father's reaction to where his parents were rested – just in the room beside this one. He hated it. Actually, it was one of the few subjects he and his brother could agree on, but it was in their will and was the royal tradition, so they conceded."

"Couldn't we at least decorate the room?"

Abby looked at Clarke and gave a small smile. "We could, but are you ever going to visit again unless you have to?"

Clarke paused. "I expect I won't. It's just…He was a great man, yet this is where he will spend the rest of time."

"That's not necessarily true. He is amongst the stars now, Clarke, not trapped in this room, and he will continue to live on in our hearts and the songs of the many who admired him."

Clarke smiled sadly, tears forming in the corners of her eyes. "You're right, I wasn't thinking properly. Thank you."

Abby pulled her into a tight hug, which Clarke only pulled away because she had something to say.

"I'm sorry for how I've been treating you for the past few days."

"It's okay. I understand that it's a lot for you to deal with."

"That's my concern. What if I'm not ready? What if I'm not strong enough to do this?"

Abby smiled warmly at her. "Clarke, when is _anyone_ ready to suddenly rule a country? Especially when grieving. I think you're doing a great job, and if you don't think you can be strong enough, then you have so many people around you who love you and can be strong for you. You're not in this alone."

Clarke felt as though the weight that had been holding her down since her father's death had been lifted, even just slightly, off her shoulders, and the wall between her and her mother had been broken down. Maybe it wasn't that her mother had been emotionless towards the situation, but that she was being strong when Clarke couldn't be. They didn't stay for long after that, and joined Raven and Lexa outside to walk back to the castle of the feast.

* * *

The banquet finished far quicker than it had the day before, and the Great Hall was quickly rearranged so that there was a space for dancing, with a long table at the end of the room for the royals and a band playing just in front, to the side.

By the time the Great Hall was prepared, Clarke already felt slightly drunk, which was only then fortified when Raven continuously filled her cup as the evening turned to night.

After the feast the Great Hall was prepared for more socialising, dancing and drink. From the side of the hall, Lexa and Raven observed Clarke as she brought people up to dance with her, from her mother to someone she couldn't even remember the name of, and only came back to have her cup refilled by Raven.

"Perhaps our majesty shouldn't drink much more, Raven," Lexa commented after a while.

Raven gave her a look of disbelief. "Are you joking? Clarke deserves this with all the stress she has."

"It might not be wise to disrupt her judgement more than it has been right now."

"Take the stick out of your ass. She has you to make judgements for her, anyway."

"I just made my judgement. You could at least water down the drink."

Raven waved her off. "You know what I meant, keep her safe and that. She's not being…too embarrassing. King Henry used to be drunk in public appearances all the time, so this is a lot better than that."

"I don't think comparing Her Majesty to bad examples of past monarchs will help any situation."  
Raven slumped her shoulders. "Fine. Just let her have fun. She may be the Queen, but she's also still young."

A little while – and a few refills – later, a young male guard approached the two, somewhat hesitantly. "Lexa?" She nodded in confirmation. "There's been a messenger sent here for you. I've been assigned to watch Her Majesty in your absence."

Lexa considered this for a moment, glancing over to Clarke, who was too busy dancing with Marcus to notice anything else. "Okay. I'll return in less than five minutes." Then, with a brief look to Raven, Lexa left.

It took half a minute for Clarke to realise Lexa had left. She clumsily made her way over, her eyebrows drawn together in concern as she looked at the unfamiliar guard. "Where is Lexa?"

"Lexa had something she had to attend to, ma'am," he replied. "I'm holding her position until she comes back."

Clarke shook her head dramatically with a frown. "She should be here now. I'm…going to the bathroom," she slurred, already going before she'd finished talking. The guard followed her, but once she'd made it out of the hall, she stopped and turned back to him. "Excuse me, it's impolite of you to follow me. I'm a lady, your Queen, I can go to the bathroom by myself."

"But Your Majesty-"

"I trust you know what you're doing? The bathroom-it's only there," she said as she pointed to a door down the hall. "Wait for me here. You don't want to defy your Queen."

He nodded dutifully. "Yes Ma'am."

It took a short while for him to get suspicious of how long she was taking, and walk up to the door, where he then heard metallic noises and talking from the other side. He knocked, then when he got no answer, opened to see that it was a kitchen, with workers hustling around cleaning the place, taking no notice of him. He looked back down the hallway, confused, to see Lexa walking over to him.

"Sorry, that took longer than I expected it to. Where is Her Majesty?"

"I-I don't know."

Lexa's expression immediately changed to that of concealed fury. "What do you mean you don't know," she said between gritted teeth.

"She went through here and said it was the bathroom and that I shouldn't follow her. I've only just been transferred here for more security, I'm sorry, I don't know the castle very well and I-"

"Wait here until I get back; I'm going to find her. Don't move," she ordered, glaring at him before going through into the kitchen, with an idea of where Clarke could've gone.


End file.
